


Holy Roller

by placentalmammal



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Alcohol, Cunnilingus, F/F, Femslash February, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 08:13:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5911651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/placentalmammal/pseuds/placentalmammal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cass and the Courier hook up at the Mojave Outpost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holy Roller

**Author's Note:**

> Cass and the Courier consume alcohol before they engage in sex; although they are both intoxicated, the encounter is completely consensual.

It began in a bar on the California/Nevada border. It was a crowded, dismal watering hole, and in ten year’s time, it would no longer exist. It was a cool, late-October day, two hundred years since the world had ended. Cass had just turned 34, had just received the news that Cassidy Caravans had been burned to ash. She was sitting alone at the end of the bar, a fortress of empty bottles built up around her, when the door opened, bringing with it an unwelcome ray of mid-day sunshine and a small, dark woman in dusty road leathers.

Cass watched from behind her bottles as the other woman made small talk with the bartender. She was looking for work, odd jobs. Wasn’t interested in signing on with a caravan or settling down into any sort of contract; nothing long-term.

“Day jobs,” she said, in a voice surprisingly deep for such a small woman. “Supply drops, errands, that sort of thing. In and out and on the road tomorrow.”

“Hey,” Cass interrupted, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table. “You want work, don’t waste your time in this shitheap. You want the Crimson Caravan, up in Vegas.”

Lacey cut her eyes at Cass. “If you’re looking for steady work, yeah. There ain’t much itinerant work up north, unless you like contracting for the NCR.”

The woman looked between them, expression unreadable. “I’m looking to settle in the area,” she said, after a moment’s consideration. “Might be looking for something steadier, if I can’t get into Vegas proper.”

“Talk to the Rangers,” said Lacey firmly. “If you want work, and you want to be out of here tomorrow, you talk to the Rangers.”

The woman nodded, drumming her fingers on the scarred counter. “Will do.” She touched the brim of her hat in salute and left, screen door snapping shut behind her.

Lacey stared after her a moment, then tsk’d. “All that, and she didn’t even buy anything.”

Cass shrugged and returned her attention to the bottles arrayed in front of her. “She’ll be back.”

She came back later that evening, with her hair dressed and oiled, and her face and hands freshly scrubbed. She’d changed out of her battered leathers and into a faded blue sundress. The cornsilk color nicely offset her dark skin, and the flattering cut revealed toned arms and shoulders. She was small, no more than five feet and four inches, with a squat wastelander build like she’d been underfed as a kid. Her dress showed a little leg, and a few NCR troopers began eyeing her up as soon as she walked through the door.

She pulled up a stool at the other end of the bar, and a few moments later, a wet-behind-the-ears Trooper took the unoccupied seat at her left. The kid was seventeen and scrawny, sunburnt and towheaded with a wispy little mustache. His buddies watched from an overcrowded corner booth, hooting with laughter while the kid stumbled through introductions and offered to buy her a drink.

Cass rolled her eyes. First few days in the Outpost, she’d got a few similar offers, always from green boys on their way to the front lines. Her suitors were a melodramatic bunch, eager to relay their life stories and brood on their mortality. They bought her cheap drinks and showed her poke-and-stick tattoos and promised to take her to Vegas, someday.

She’d showed her teeth a few times, and gradually, they’d got the message. Anymore, the green boys in their ill-fitting fatigues gave her a wide berth, focusing their energies on the traders and caravan guards. Didn’t have much luck with them, either, but it was better than bothering Cass.

The newcomer tolerated the boy’s attention for a few minutes. Lacey brought them a couple of beers, and the woman drank placidly while the boy chattered nervously, his hands trembling slightly while he played with his beer. He was shouting to be heard over the radio and the chatter of off-duty troopers; Cass caught a few words out of each sentence.

“...at McCarren,” he said. “Gonna get Strip Leave once a month.” The woman _hmm_ ’ed, plainly unimpressed, but the boy pressed on. “Have you ever been to New Vegas?”

Cass didn’t catch the woman’s response, but it threw the trooper for a loop. “R-really?” he stuttered. “I had no idea.” She smirked at him, revealing a full mouth of very white teeth. Her eyes were black as crude oil, but they glittered in the steady light of the bar’s kerosene lanterns. In the dim kerosene glow, she looked half-feral, a Deathclaw with a blue dress on.

“There’s a lot you don’t know,” the woman said. She finished her beer in a single gulp and pushed the empty towards the boy. “Thanks for the drink.”

The boy turned tail and fled back to his friends’ table, and the woman examined her nails, daring another clueless trooper to take his vacated seat. A few glanced her way, their eyes lingering on the curve of her calves, but none moved to sit beside her. She ordered herself another beer and popped the cap on the counter’s edge. She drank in contented solitude, her dark eyes roving over the crowd. More than once, her gaze lingered on Cass, who raised her own bottle in mock salute.

The woman’s lips twitched upwards. Her smile was softer and friendlier than the one she’d bestowed on the boy, and Cass grinned back. She waved Lacey over and sent the woman another beer; her smile widened. She waved at Cass and gestured to the empty seat beside her.

Grinning, she abandoned her bottle wall and crossed the room to sit beside the other woman. “Name’s Cass,” she said, sticking her hand out.

“Jones.” She had square hands with short, strong fingers and callouses on each fingertip. She squeezed Cass’ hand rather than shake it, her grip firm and dry. “Good to finally get your name.”

“Well, I would have come right up and introduced myself, but you were otherwise occupied.”

Jones laughed, the feral twinkle back in her eyes. “He was ever so polite,” she said wickedly. “Apparently his daddy’s a pretty big deal in the Senate, out west.”

Cass snorted. “Heard the same story last week, from somebody else. And I told her that if that were true, she sure as shit wouldn’t be stationed in the Mojave. Anybody with any kind of pull has their kid pushing papers in Shady Sands.”

“Not true,” said Jones. “There are a lot of Brahmin barons buying their kids commissioned posts for their 17th birthdays, god help us all.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Cass said. “I feel pretty good knowing the Mojave’s in the hands of a bunch of rich kids who couldn’t find their asses with both hands.” She stole Jones’ bottle and took a sip of her lukewarm beer. “Fuck, that shit’s weak.”

“But it does the trick, if you drink enough of it.” Jones took the bottle back and took a long swallow, her full lips wrapped suggestively around the rim. She looked up at Cass through her lashes, smirking around the bottle.

“And have you?” Cass asked.

“Drunk enough?” Jones shrugged. “I don’t know, but I’m getting close. Buy us another round and let’s find out.”

Between the two of them, they finished another few beers and an already-mostly empty handle of good Pre-War rye. The liquor ate up most of Cass’ remaining funds, but it was worth it to fuel the fire in Jones’ eye. The other woman eventually got around to talking about herself; she was a courier out of Primm, heading to Vegas to see about a job that’d gone tits-up in Goodsprings. “Some fucker shot me,” she complained. “I mean, I been shot before, but not personal, not like that.”

“What are you gonna do when you find him?” Cass leaned on the bar for support, her elbow in a pool of spilt whiskey. “Could cut off his testicles, wear ‘em around your neck.” Her face was warm, her vision was swimming. She was drunk, but not so drunk that more liquor seemed like a good idea.

Jones pulled a face. “Got no use for testicles,” she said. “No. I’m going to kill the fucker, eat his heart.” Her tone was venomous, her expression was ferocious, and for a moment, Cass believed her.

“What, really?”

She laughed. “No!” she said, shoulders shaking in mirth, head dropping against Cass’ shoulder. “Gonna burn his house down or some shit. I ain’t into the whole ‘cannibal’ thing.”

“Well, that’s a fucking relief,” Cass drawled. “I was worried I’d have to beat your sorry ass.”

“Still could, if you wanted to,” she murmured, her wet lips millimeters from Cass’ throat.

Cass shivered and snaked an arm around Jones’ waist. “Wouldn’t want to smack you,” she said. “Rather just get you up against a wall, hike that skirt up.”

“Yeah? Then what?” Jones’ voice was breathless, her words slurred but distinct. Her body was warm against Cass’, smelling sweetly like sweat and talcum powder and ivory soap. Cass wanted her mouth on Jones’ skin, wanted her fingers tangled in the other woman’s hair. If they hadn’t been halfway drunk, perched on bar stools and leaning on one another for support, Cass would have hauled Jones into her lap. She put her hand on the other woman’s knee, slid it along her thigh, raising gooseflesh.

“I’d get my mouth on you,” Cass murmured, face buried in the other woman’s hair. “Suck your clit until I had you screaming my name.”

“Yeah?” Her wet lips brushed Cass’ throat. “You gonna put your money where your mouth is? Take me out back and fuck me?”

Cass’ hand slipped under the hem of Jones’ skirt. Squirming, the smaller woman spread her legs a little, allowing Cass easier access. “Yeah,” she said. “Not gonna fingerbang you at the bar, all these people watching.”

“You could,” she said, chest rising and falling rapidly. “Wouldn’t mind.”

Cass pulled her hand away and Jones groaned. “Ain’t about to give these country cowfucks a free show,” she said. “‘M Not drunk enough.”

Jones laughed, low and throaty. “Then let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Stumbling, still laughing, still leaning on one another for support, they made it out of the barracks. The night air was cool against Cass’ flushed skin. She shivered, her nipples stiff, sensitive peaks against her rough cotton shirt. She moaned at the stimulation, moaned at Jones’ warm weight and her sweet, powdery smell. “Fuck,” she said, hands roving over the other woman’s compact body. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Jones tugged at her hand, pulled her into the alley behind the building, where they’d be shielded from the wind and from prying eyes. Her arms went around Cass’ neck, and she pulled her down for a rough kiss. She kissed with her eyes closed, with her fingernails digging into Cass’ shoulders, with her legs spread to make room for her knee. She ground down against Cass’ thigh, shuddering, lips parted, moaning wantonly against her mouth. “God,” she said, curses and blasphemy dropping from her lips like hailstones. “Fuck, Jesus, God!”

“That good?” Cass panted, grinning savagely. “Like that?”

“Fuck me,” she whimpered. “ _Please_.”

“How you want it?”

“Your fingers,” Jones said.

“Alright. You should turn around, face the wall.”

Jones moved quickly, stumbling slightly but catching herself against the bricks. She stuck her ass out, smiling over her shoulder at Cass, waggling her eyebrows. “Like this?”

“Yeah,” Cass said, stepping forward and bracketing Jones with her arms. She pressed her hips against the other woman’s ass, grinding into her, her breath hot on her cheek. “Like this.”

Jones ground back, mouth open, moaning. Cass kissed her cheek and braced herself against the wall with one arm, sliding the other down Jones’ body, squeezing her flesh through her dress. Jones moaned in approval, rocking back into Cass’ hips. She slipped her hand under Jones’ skirt, caressing her thighs, sliding her hem up. She cupped the other woman’s mound through her soaked panties, and Jones groaned, tendons standing out in her muscular forearms.

Kissing her, Cass worked her hand into the waistband of Jones’ panties, running her middle finger along her slit. She gasped, hips twitching, and Cass grinned, spreading her with two fingers and teasing her inner lips with a third. “You’re so wet, Jones,” Cass breathed. “So horny.”

“Can’t help it,” she groaned, rocking against Cass’ hand. “Your fault.”

“Yeah?” said Cass, laughing. “I got you all wet?”

“Yes! _God!_ Don’t stop, please don’t--”

Cass kissed her again, swallowing her words while she pushed her middle finger into Jones’ slick, unresisting cunt. She curled and uncurled the finger while Jones shuddered and contracted around her, pussy sucking at her digit and trying to pull it deeper inside. She kept her mouth steady on Jones’ face and lips and throat, whispering praise while she dragged her thumb across the other woman’s swollen clit. Spitting and cursing, Jones thrust forward against Cass’ hand. Grinning manically, Cass added another finger, curling and uncurling with the first, working at Jones’ pussy, her juices running down her forearm.

Cass leaned forward, pressing Jones into the wall and holding their with her own weight. Immobilized, Jones shivered and clenched, around Cass’ fingers, crying out when she increased the intensity of her movements, frantically rubbing Jones’ clit while she fingerfucked her. “Come for me,” she said, her voice low and rasping. “Come on!”

Jones said nothing, screwing her face up and biting her bottom lip. Cass laughed and increased the pressure of her thumb on the other woman’s clit, earning a whimper. “Can’t hold out forever,” Cass said. “I wanna make you scream.”

She came quietly, a whimper and a rush of heat and moisture against Cass’ hand; pussy shuddering and contracting. Her entire body went tense, and then relaxed all at once, twitching against Cass’ own. Eyes screwed shut, Jones ground her hips back against Cass and pressed her face against the wall, lips moving silently as if in prayer. Her skin shone with sweat, her hair was mussed and wild, the acidic tang of sex clung to her body.

Jones turned around in Cass’ arms, back to the wall, facing her once again. “I want to eat you,” she said, huskily. “Let me lick your pussy.”

Cass groaned and kissed her again, pressing her body against Jones, savoring her heat and bulk. Jones groped for her belt, fumbling with the buckle, then dropped to her knees in front of Cass, breathing hard. Helped along by Cass, she undid her trousers and pushed them down with her panties, exposing her ass and groin to the cool night air. Cass didn’t have time to register the sudden chill before Jones had buried her face in her cunt, licking along her seam.

“Fuck!” Cass reached down and parted herself for Jones with one slick hand, bracing herself against the wall with her other arm. Jones lapped at her slit, drinking her juices and rolling her tongue over Cass’ clit. She put her hands on Cass’ thighs, nails biting into her skin, urging her to spread her legs a little wider. Cass did so, leaning forward into the wall, wishing she had a hand free to play with her aching tits while Jones ate her out.

Already worked up from fingerfucking Jones, Cass couldn’t last long. She fought orgasm with every breath, struggling to hold back and remain at the peak for a little while longer. She ground her teeth and rolled her hips in time with Jones’ movements, pulling away whenever she was close, but Jones held her still, licking up into her cunt with eye-watering intensity. Cass cussed and moaned as Jones ran her tongue over her folds, teasing her labia, circling her clit, and coming back down with steady, practiced movements.

“God, you’re good,” Cass groaned. “You got a fucking good mouth, Jones.”

The other woman smiled, wrapped her lips around Cass’ clit, and sucked, tongue flicking over the sensitive bud. It was ultimately too much, and Cass came with a choked scream, beating her fist against the brick wall while orgasm rolled over her like thunder.

Jones pulled away, peppering Cass’ shaking thighs with slick kisses while she shook and trembled from the force of her climax.

“Fuck,” Cass said, quietly, too hoarse to cry out again. “Holy shit.” She extended a hand and helped Jones to her feet, then staggered to a nearby picnic table. “Don’t think I’ve come that good in years.”

“I live to serve,” said Jones, brushing the dirt from her knees. Her lips were shining with Cass’ juices, her eyes with mischief.

“You really on your way out in the morning?” Cass said quietly. “Wouldn’t mind going for a second round, once I’ve got all the booze out of my bloodstream.”

Jones smiled, white teeth flashing in the dark. “Me neither,” she said, “but I gotta get on my way.”

“If you come back through--” Cass said hopefully.

“For sure.”

“It’s a date, then,” Cass said, and Jones laughed again, a low, smoky sound like Cazador honey.

**Author's Note:**

>  _I am a women of leisure,_  
>  _I've been looking for the end of want._  
>  _I don't want it but I need it,_  
>  _Well come on baby why don't you give me some_ ([x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gq3mBIyfzks))


End file.
